George by Alex Gino cont'd
by silentgundam
Summary: Months after Melissa goes to the zoo, George's life takes a curious turn.
1. Chapter 1

Melissa stared at herself in Kelly's bathroom mirror, admiring the maroon eyeshadow that her best friend had matched with the thin tee shirt she wore. Even though shorts and a tee shirt was a normal outfit for children in the summer, it was a pair of _girl_ shorts that stopped a few inches above the knee and a _girl_ tee shirt with sleeves that didn't extend down to her elbows. Melissa loved the freedom of the light material, of the breeze on less-often exposed skin.

But it was over.

"Here," Kelly said, popping into the bathroom with a stained washcloth. "This'll get that makeup off your face in no time."

"Is it clean?" Melissa asked as she took the rag.

"Of course it is! My dad just says he doesn't have time to bleach and scrub silly things."

"You wouldn't need bleach-"

"And that's my cue!" Kelly said loudly. With a flourished wink, she backed out of the bathroom and slammed the door.

Melissa hated this part. She turned on the water to let it warm up while she undressed. She undressed quickly, not looking in the mirror as she discarded Kelly's clothes into the dirty hamper next to the door, then pulled on her own clothes. The clothes that came from her house, at least. Grabbing the washcloth, she scrubbed her face until the stained fabric was even more colorful. Then she splashed water on her face until it ran clear. Sweeping her hair back off her face, Melissa straightened to look in the mirror again.

George was looking back.

"Will you quit sighing in there?" Kelly called from the other side of the door. "I know you don't like your boy clothes, but you're going to blow our straw house down like that!"

The cheap humor lifted George's spirits a little. With a last glance at the pink-cheeked boy with semi-wet hair and just-slightly-too-small tee shirt and basketball shorts, George turned from her reflection.

"When do you think your mom will let you wear what you want?" Kelly asked when George came into her room.

She shrugged. "Maybe never. Dr. White said that sometimes parents of transgender youth never come around." Dr. White was the therapist that saw both George and Mom. Most of the time, she saw them separately. But sometimes she asked to have a session with them both. George hated those sessions.

Kelly wrinkled her nose. "That's silly. At least you can always dress proper over here."

George tried to smile at her friend. But Kelly, with all her parts matching what was in her heart, just didn't understand. It wasn't enough to be a real girl only behind the closed doors of a friend's house. George wanted to be a real girl all the time.

After saying goodbye, George hopped on her pike a hurried home. Summer curfews were different than the school year ones, but as the sun vanished behind the distant tree line, even George had to admit that she was pushing it. She pedaled harder.

The clock inside the front door read 8:02.

"Sorry!" George called. "I didn't realize what time it was-" She stopped short as she entered the living room. The TV was off, Mom was still in her work clothes on the couch, and Scott was home, sitting in the arm chair closest to Mom. His curfew wasn't for another two hours.

"Hey," Scott said. The end of his greeting trailed slightly, a newer trait that he'd developed since learning that George was a girl. At first, she couldn't make heads or tails of it. But after a few weeks, George realized that Scott was keeping himself from calling her 'bro,' 'buddy,' or 'dude.'

Now she liked the trail.

"What's going on?" George asked. "Is everything okay?"

Scott looked over at Mom before shrugging. "Just talking. You know me, always causing problems." He stood up, walked past George, and called over his shoulder, "Love you, Mom!" before disappearing upstairs.

Mom didn't turn her head as she called back, "Love you." It sounded a little flat.

"Is everything okay for real?" George asked when she heard Scott's bedroom door close. "Did he do something really bad this time?"

"No, Gee. He didn't do anything."

George flinched. There was just enough of an emphasis on the _he_. Mom looked over at her and sighed, then gestured for George to sit down where Scott had just been. George's heart sped up as she did. For several moments, they sat in silence. Mom didn't look mad, exactly, but her lips were pressed together so tight that they were slowly disappearing. Finally, she swallowed. It was loud in the space around the quiet TV.

"School starts up in two weeks."

Well, a week and three days, but George didn't think Mom needed reminding of that just then.

"Scott needs new shoes and jeans and probably at least one or two decent shirts," Mom said. "And I've noticed that your clothes are getting small. We ought to go back to school shopping for you bo...for you two."

Catching herself from calling George a boy aside, Mom's declaration brought a frown to George's face. She didn't particularly like her personal clothes, but the fact that they were fitting her a little tighter (like _girl_ clothes) had been nice. A secret pleasure. Now she'd have to endure baggy button downs and mile-long zippers.

But all she said was, "Okay."

"And..." Mom sighed. Some of the edge fell out of her voice, leaving her just sounding tired. "Gee...I know I'm not moving as fast as you want with...this." She fanned her hand vaguely at George. But I hope you know that I'm trying. And...when we go to get new clothes, you can...you can pick styles more...more..."

George's voice was a whisper, all the air trapped in her lungs as she held her breath. "Girly?"

"More your taste," Mom finished firmly. "I...I'm not ready for dresses or pink or sequins or any of that. But...if you want to pick some of the less..."

"Girly?"

"More unisex clothes. If you can meet me in the middle there...you can pick from _both_ the boy's and girl's sections."

George didn't miss the condition, that she'd still have to wear some boy clothes, but she didn't care. She couldn't care, not when Mom was sitting there, looking George in the eye, and telling her that she could buy girl clothes and wear them to school. Her heart fluttered excitedly. Blinking back tears that might push Mom past her limit of acceptance for the evening, George took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Mom."

"I love you, GeeGee." Mom said it simply. A part of George was hurt that the only real reason Mom was willing to try and understand was that George was her child. But for now, Dr. White said that had to be enough.

"Why don't you go get ready for bed?" Mom suggested after some more silence. "We'll get going kind of early tomorrow so we can be home in time for dinner."

"Okay." George hurried to her room without trying to look too pleased. She floated up the stairs in a daze, feet barely skimming the floor as she moved in a barely-suppressed dance to her bedroom door. She was going to be able to wear girl clothes! George would be able to wear them to school, to anywhere! And Mom agreed to it! With the door latched safely behind her, George let the tears fall. But for the first time since her performance at the Charlotte's Web play, these were tears of joy.


	2. Chapter 2

Mom always described the shopping mall in the neighboring city as 'just modern enough not to warrant an update,' which George always felt was pretty generous. The building was just an enormous stadium of fading brick and two or three slow-moving automatic doors with greasy glass panes. The interior wasn't a whole lot better. Shops lined the exterior, making a huge circle spanning three stories with a fountain just off center enough to accommodate a food-truck-style eating area. Most of the surfaces outside of the individual stores were stained a sort of dirty-eggshell-white.

But today, none of that mattered. Today, George was going to buy some girl clothes all her own.

"Alright," Mom said, using that bossy sort of voice adults use when they think there needs to be a plan. "Since shoes won't take long, let's knock those out first. Scott, quit dragging, it's only nine."

"Yeah, in the summer, though," Scott groaned, eyes barely open as he followed six feet behind them.

"Quit whining and come on."

Part of George felt bad for Scott. Mom was being much shorter today than usual, and George could guess why.

"Mom?" she said quietly. "Are you mad?"

Exhaling sharply through her nose once, Mom shook her head as she looked down at George. "No, honey. I'm sorry. I'm...I'm not acting quite right, am I?"

"No, no, no, you're fine!" George said. She didn't need Mom thinking that she wasn't doing the right thing. "I shouldn't have said anything, I-"

"It's okay," Scott interrupted, trailing. "Both of you. Now let's get some shoes. These ones are about to break my big toe."

Shoes were easy. Scott knew exactly what he wanted, what he had always gotten for at least five straight years. He just needed to try on different sizes to make sure he had enough room for his big feet. Even George wasn't terribly fussed about what went on her feet. Sure, the flowered sandals and purple canvas flats caught her eye, but she was perfectly content with buying the sage green sneakers that Mom had long ago told George were 'sort of an old lady style, but whatever.'

It was after they walked out of the shoe store, boxes in bags, that the real fun began.

The nearest store that any of them could agree on was a general department store, which suited George just fine. Here, the boy's and girl's departments were along the same wall, making it emotionally easier on Mom. While she followed Scott to the men's department to make sure he stayed on task, Mom surprised George and let her stay behind to find her own clothes.

"Just...remember what I said last night," Mom said.

And George did. This was her first ever opportunity to find clothes that she felt comfortable in. She wasn't about to ruin that chance by breaking Mom's rules. Getting the less enjoyable part of the deal out of the way, George browsed the boy's clothes first, finding three shirts that weren't terrible - two shallow V-necks in red and in green and a plain long-sleeved shirt with horizontal black and white stripes. Then, hopeful that these choices would satisfy Mom, George made her way to the girl's section.

There wasn't a physical divider between the two areas, not even a color change from the table of cargo shorts and the display of khaki capri pants. But the narrow gap felt like a chasm to George.

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and stepped across the invisible line.

No alarms. No angry shouts. Nothing. George opened her eyes, not aware of having closed them, and breathed out slowly. Surely she was being dramatic. But as she began to surreptitiously browse the clusters of blouses and leggings around her curiously, she couldn't help but feel the teensy bit out of place. A mom and her two young daughters looked George's way and frowned.

But George pushed on, ignoring the anxiety in her chest. It was easy to see what she should avoid - there were racks directly on the high walls with frilling shirts, vibrant dresses, bold splashes of pink and other forbidden shades of color. But near the store's tiled aisles George found several tables with tops of more muted colors folded neatly next to circles of denim on hangers. She ran her hands over the fabrics, sighing at the sensations she had come to suspect she would only ever enjoy at Kelly's house.

After the novelty faded just enough, George both quickly searched through and took her time inspecting the various options she now had before her. The boy shirts were slung over her shoulder to give her better use of both hands. Girl sizes were wildly different than boy sizes. Where George had always been in the smallest sizes of boy clothes, she fast realized that she was going to be a solid medium or large in the girl clothes if she was going to keep Mom from having a heart attack. Not that size really mattered in fifth grade. Not to George. But the discovery took five minute of her precious shopping time.

Twenty minutes later, however, George held four basic crew-neck tee shirts, all with the shorter sleeves and in baby blue, pine green, soft gray, and a daring yellow that she couldn't resist, as well as a single pair of 'straight leg' jeans that George was certain could pass for boy jeans if you weren't looking too hard.

Mom tried to smile but mostly it looked like a wince. Scott didn't say anything about it, instead choosing to loudly complain that Mom had forced him buy a polo shirt that made him look like a Jehovah Witness. George left the store in a state of what she had to think was intoxication, a kind of high on her victory. But the next store, Mom stayed with George, allowing Scott more leeway. Although Mom didn't say much when George chose another handful of soft shirts, she did stop her when she made to grab a pair of shorter capri pants. Hand firm on George's wrist, Mom had insisted then that they buy George three pairs of nice dress shorts from the boy's department. At least as far as boy clothes went, the dressier options weren't the worst.

When they all collapsed onto the couch around four o'clock that afternoon, surrounded by at least a dozen bags, it felt like a hard-won war.

"Well boys, I hope you're happy," Mom said to the ceiling.

George's shoulders slumped at the term but tried to tell herself not to let it get to her. After all, Mom had done a lot for her today. One little slip wasn't worth the fight.

"I officially have to work overtime next week to pay for all this. You both better wear it all."

Scott snorted. "Wow, Mom. Way to show the love."

Mom stood, forcing out a laugh that made it clear that while she maybe wasn't joking, she certainly didn't mind doing anything for her children. "I'm going to figure out dinner," she said as she disappeared into the kitchen. "Go ahead and take all that stuff upstairs and find homes for it. And I better not see any of those nice clothes crumpled into a drawer, Scott!"

Neither George nor Scott moved. They were too wiped. As much as she had thoroughly enjoyed shopping that day, George was not invincible to the drag that came from wandering around department stores all day. She was only ten, after all.

"So," Scott trailed.

George looked over. "What?"

"Are you excited about your clothes?"

"Uhm, yes." She wasn't sure how Scott felt about his little brother dressing like a girl. He hadn't been openly mean about George being a girl or anything, but Scott hadn't exactly told her that he approved, either. If anything, Scott had just gone on treating her like he always had, save for the trail.

Scott nodded, closing his eyes as he slumped deeper into the couch. "Good. I told her she needed to step it up and let you have _something_. She's too busy freaking out over what this means for her that I don't think she realizes what this means for you, you know?"

"Wait," George gasped, sitting straight up as she stared at Scott. "You..._you_ told her to let me buy...to let me have girl clothes?"

"Basically. Sorry I couldn't get you a skirt outta the deal, though. I know girls love those things. Personally, I don't get it. Too breezy for my taste."

For the second time in two days, joyful tears burned George's eyes. Scott had always been such a gross, brash, imposing older brother, such a _boy_ that was day by day turning more and more into a man. Yet...without so much as batting an eye (although he did stuff his face in a horribly obscene way at the time), he had accepted George for who she truly was inside. And now this.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Scott cracked open his eyes and grinned at her. "Hey I've never had a little sister, but I hear big brothers are supposed to be protective or something. So I'm learning as I go. Just don't expect me to push Mom anymore for a little while, yeah?"

Wiping her eyes, George said, "Yeah. Yeah, I won't."


	3. Chapter 3

The first day of school had a lot of meaning for every new fifth grader. It was their year as top of the food chain, their final year at the elementary school, their first year with state exams that were highly standardized, their first year without Charlotte's Web. And for George, it was her first year with at least a partial wardrobe she felt comfortable in.

There was a loud wolf whistle as George stepped off the bus.

"Whoa, girl! Lookin' good!" Kelly shouted from three feet away.

George hastily shushed her best friend as the kids around them turned to stare. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Just commenting on how good you look, what's the deal?"

"You can't just-just-just call me a girl out in public like that!"

"But look at you!" Kelly gestured up and down at George's outfit - her sage green old lady sneakers; the girl jeans she had gotten away with that hung at her hips with a three-inch zipper, fake pockets, and were only slightly baggy to appease Mom; and a girl's maroon tee that exposed most of her upper arms. But what really made the entire look was George's hair. With nothing but a few rapid blinks in reaction from Mom, she had walked out of the house with her hair, still kept short like a boy's, pushed forward over her forehead. Like bangs. If it weren't for the fact that only Kelly knew her real name, she felt more like Melissa than George

But alas, the school and everyone in it only knew George.

She grinned despite her self consciousness. It did feel good to be so comfortable. "Thanks."

"Now let's knock the socks off this first day of school!" Linking arms with George, Kelly dragged them up the side steps of the school and into the building amid the surrounding stares.

Inside the school, chaos ruled. The first day of school was always a little crazy. Kindergarteners and half of the first graders were being personally escorted by tear-eyed parents that looked as lost as their children. The rest of the grades crowded in the cafeteria with their overloaded backpacks and grocery sacks full of classroom supplies as they waited for their new teachers to come and call them. George and Kelly already knew that they were in the same class again.

"I bet Mr. Lamb is super lame," Kelly said as they found an empty space near the east corner, marked with a large 'E.'

"What makes you say that?"

"His name! Who do you know named after a barnyard animal that was cool?"

Admittedly, no one. "I don't think that counts. We don't know anyone that has a barnyard name."

"Exactly! Because most of them crawled into caves to hide their lameness!"

"Is that something your dad says?"

"What? Absolutely no. He says not to judge a song by its album art."

George laughed.

"Um." Someone cleared their throat behind her. "George?"

She turned and nearly gasped aloud. Rick stood there, hair gelled to his head as though worried a single strand might up and walk away on its own, jeans pressed clean, and tee shirt stainless. He cleared his throat again, looking at his shuffling feet. Although George hadn't a clue as to what to say, Kelly certainly did.

"Is there somewhere we can point you, Rick?" she asked coolly.

Rick shook his head, eyes still on the floor. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Well I don't want to hear anything you have to say," Kelly snapped.

"I meant George."

"Oh, you mean-"

George stepped on Kelly's foot to shut her up. Whatever was happening, telling Rick her real name would do exactly nothing good for her in the long run. Swallowing, George asked, "What do you want with me?"

"I don't-it's not-I don't want anything with you," he stammered. "Not-not like last year, when Jeff was so mean to you-"

Kelly cleared her throat loudly. "A-_hem_, you mean when _you_ were so mean to her."

Rick's head shot up then, eyebrows scrunching together at the pronoun. Stress knotted George's stomach at Kelly's slip. But there was nothing to be done now. Either Rick would think Kelly messed up, a simple misspeaking, or George's secret just gained a new audience member. A few tense seconds trickled by while Rick stared at George, frowning and then trying not to frown, then frowning again.

Finally, he sighed. "Yeah, when _I_ was mean to you."

George and Kelly shared a wide-eyed look.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry," Rick said, making direct eye contact with George now. "We used to be friends, and I'm sorry that I was so mean to you just because Jeff came along and made me think that you deserved it just-just for being different. I-I don't want to be that kid. My mom told me that my dad - my real dad, not my step dad that I call 'Dad' - was like that. And I don't want to be like that. I want to be a good person. And I don't-I don't think it's so weird that you act different or like different things or-or-or dress different."

George's heart was hammering so hard in her chest that she was absolutely certain that Rick could hear it. Kelly just folded her arms across her chest.

"What makes you think we should believe you?" she asked. "You helped Jeff punch her last year! You don't just decide not to be a horrible, horrible person one day, Rick."

Rick was already shaking his head. "It didn't! I felt bad about that when it happened, but I couldn't stop thinking about it all summer. My mom said that if I wanted to make it right, I had to do something. So...I..."

The unfinished statement hung there between the trip, lost among the chorus of conversations that were echoing around the cafeteria as eight o'clock ticked closer. Finally, it was George's soft voice that broke the relative silence.

"So you what?"

Awkwardly formal, Rick stuck out his hand to George. "I want to try and be friends again."

Strange, guarded hope fluttered among the frantic stress that was racing in George's veins. She took a steadying breath. "Even though I'm...different?"

Rick nodded.

"No matter how different?"

"Like why Kelly's calling you a 'she'?"

George's heart stopped.

"Yes," Rick said with a tentative smile. "No matter how different."

Beneath her girl's shirt, George's girl heart thundered back into action. A wide grin spread across her face as she reached out and took Rick's hand in hers and shook it. There was a moment, just as the morning bell rang, where they held each other's hand, gaze, and smile.

Just one more reason the first day of fifth grade was a huge day for George.


End file.
